le contrôleur grand

what if society is god... and god is merely a puppet?
what if this god of a puppet is slave to something sinister?

who, then, would the Grand Comptroller be?

peace... order... rules... laws... restraints... constraints... control... power...
time... priority... occupation... rationalisation... dehumanisation... alienation...
religion... belief... faith... reason... doubt...
culture... propaganda... ideology... lies...
morality... teleology... purpose... existence...
life... humanity... psychology... conditions... emotions...

emotion.
a small word, and yet so powerful... amongst the multiplicity of our masters, is she not the one to whom we're most intimately and inextricably bound? for all our achievements as human beings, can any of us claim freedom from the sweetest dominatrix of all? even as we conquer mundane obstacles... could we claim superordination over her and yet remain human?

worry.
by virtue of the rational faculties each mind assumes it possesses, we keep ourselves perpetually worrying... worrying about what-ifs, what-nots; worrying about uncertainties, confidence; worrying about minute details, the big picture. there exists not a situation for anyone to truly exist with no worries save for death, and yet we formulated society simply to escape such a brutish existence!

embarassment.
beyond the formal rules and cultural norms, something "automatic" within each of us attempts to rein us in - the blush and self-criticism. we endlessly, needlessly, lambast ourselves when, in a moment of courageous folly, we may have flaunted behavioural prescriptions. and so a self-restraining device casts a spell of inordinate fear imprisoning our every action from our firm control.

so you thought you were in control... but are you really? when was the last time you truly made a choice? when was the last time you even had one? if le contrôleur grand gives you a list of choices, are you then less of a puppet in any way?

society is god, and god is a puppet
the strong remain in control
but the weak may never know
leaning precariously over the parapet
will i let go and fly
off the show and the lies
and knowingly die without regret?
yet here are my feet
shuffling in defeat
i'm still firmly rooted to this carpet